What's your real name?
by Time Traverser
Summary: How did the founding fathers discover Alfred's secret? What were their reactions? What did they do? No romance, which means no yaoi, yuri, smut, lemon or anything else like that. Rated T for wiggle room.
1. Chapter 1

George Washington looked upon the militia men in sadness. Some were dead, and many were wounded. He made his way through the bloodied field, giving help where he could, although there wasn't much he could do. Washington's heart cried out at the injustice of it all. The tall delegate came across a younger man who couldn't be more than fifteen, with dimmed blue eyes and dirty blond hair caked to his forehead. Despite his own wound, a shredded and bloodied splotch in his torso, he was comforting the person leaning against a tree next to him, "You'll be fine, I promise!" He broke off to cough.

The militiaman grimaced as he moved his wounded shoulder, "If they can dig out the ball. Otherwise I'll lose my arm." He looked over the younger one, "Why are you comforting _me_? You're the one who looks like he's dying!"

The younger boy shrugged, wincing at the sudden movement, "Ow. Don't be a pessimist. This isn't the worst thing that's happened to me-oh!" He saw Washington and beckoned at him, "Medic! This man needs some field surgery and bandages!"

Washington approached the pair, He looked over the man's shoulder, "We should be able to get this out fine. It didn't go too deep, head over to the doctor's tent." The man made a labored grunt and shuffled off. Washington looked back to the wounded boy and shook his head, "You are _much_ to young for this, you know that right?"

The boy huffed, surprisingly energetic for someone in his situation, "I'm older than I look! And these guys needed help. I couldn't just stand by and watch!"

Washington knelt down to the boy's level, "What's your name, son?"

The blond hesitated, "It's-erm...Alfred, sir." He moved his hand to allow Washington to see the wound.

Washington frowned, "And you say you've been through worse?"

Alfred gave a hint of a knowing smile, "Yeah. Don't worry, this doesn't hurt to bad compared to that one time..." He trailed off, staring off into the middle distance. The boy shook his head, "I thank you for coming to see me, but shouldn't you be helping someone who needs it?"

Washington looked at him disbelievingly, "You're _dying_. I can't think of anything that is more urgent."

Alfred craned his neck to look around, "Well...if I'm _dying_, as you say, then shouldn't you help that guy over there with the missing fingers? He looks like he'll live."

Washington shook his head again, "Are you sure? I admire your courage, but quite frankly this is crossing the line into ridiculous."

The boy gestured with his thumb, "Don't waste your time on me!"

The delegate gave a deep regretful sigh and stood up, "Well then, if you insist...may God be with you young man." He left to attend others.

* * *

_Later On_

The report wasn't good. Most of the militia was gone. Over half were dead, and the many were wounded. _'I wonder if that Alfred boy is among the dead...'_ Washington thought idly, _'They die so young these days...' _The delegate set aside the report, he would take it to the next congressional meeting. Washington stepped out of his tent and took in the mostly empty field. The bodies have been taken away to their respective families, seeing as how they were all local men. Blood was still caked on the ground, which gave the area a sickly copper smell. How much farther would things go before peace? How many more would die?

An stout older man with a limp approached, the former militia's leader, "How long do you intend to stay, sir?"

Washington looked around, "Not much longer..." an idea came upon him, "Excuse me, but do you know of a young man named Alfred?"

The man's eyes lit up, "Oh, yes! The Jones boy. So cheerful...what about him?"

The taller man clasped his hands in front of him casually, "What's the last that you heard of him?"

The militia leader gave a small smile, "He's fine. I sent him home not that long ago. Don't worry, this wasn't his first battle. There wasn't a scratch on him."

Washington was careful to not show any surprise, "Oh? Lucky indeed."

The man made a noncommittal noise and walked off. Washington caught a slight shake of his head and a muttering, "No, not lucky. Not lucky at all."

* * *

**Alright. Next chapter is done! I'll keep trying to update regularly, but I have some things I'm taking care of and it interferes with my writing a little bit.**

**Thanks for the attention this story has gotten so far! I'm glad to see that I'm not _completely_ alone in the world. ;)**

**Review, s'il vous plait? ^J^**


	2. Chapter 2

A long time ago...

America was running through town, hurrying to get to the congressional meeting. He wove through a clump of people and actually ducked under a horse to get by faster.'_Am I late? I don't know! I slept in and I have to get these papers to Thomas or else-'_

"Alfred!"

America screeched to a stop and looked around, _'Who said that?'_

An older man with long grey hair and a cane hobbled up to Alfred. He wore a rather uncomfortable grey and black outfit . He peered up at Alfred from his hunched position, "It's hard to catch up with you young man." he commented mildly, "I'm not as spry as I once was."

America straightened some of the papers he held, "Sorry, Mr. Franklin."

Benjamin Franklin waved off Alfred's apology, "No worries, Alfred. I'd imagine that we're going to the same place, if those papers are anything to go by. Walk with me, it's not that far so we won't be late."

Alfred smiled and relaxed, "Alright then, Mr. Franklin."

"Alfred, I've known you since the first congressional meeting. please call me Ben." the older man said.

"No problem...Ben." America responded experimentally. The two started to walk together.

_'Why does he keep looking at me like that?'_ America wondered, as Mr. Franklin studied him.

America decided to broach the subject, "Something on your mind?"

"Alfred, what does the 'F' in your name stand for?" the delegate asked.

"It stands for...um..." His face twisted into an expression of confusion as he thought about it. After a moment he shrugged apologetically, "Sorry, but I don't really know."

_'That's a good question. Guess I never really thought about it.'_

"Interesting." Ben mused, "Alfred, do you mind humoring an old man?"

America looked at Ben, "Doing what?"

Franklin smiled, "Just listen. A long time ago, when I first came here to work in my brother's print shop, I ran into a young man of some rank in the British navy who had a grumpy attitude and the largest eyebrows ever seen. His name was Arthur."

America's eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"Normally this would be of no consequence. But over the years, I continued to see him. At the market, at the port, in the shop...all over the place. Franklin paused and brought a hand to his chin contemplatively, "He never aged. He always looked exactly the way I first met him."

America nodded carefully, not giving anything away, their destination was in sight. A large green two story building, with other recognizable faces such as John Adams and Thomas Jefferson beginning to file in.

Benjamin continued as they walked, "Whenever I'm in France, I see another young man, I don't know his name, with blond hair and an expensive purple outfit. I sometimes see him wandering the halls of the palace, doing nothing in particular. Whenever I ask any nobles about him, they either don't know or refuse to tell me. He hasn't aged either." He watched Alfred's reactions through the whole narrative.

Outwardly, America was calm, but he was freaking out on the inside,_'He knows. I think. Maybe...'_America thought frantically.

The delegate wasn't finished, "Going back to the first man, Arthur. He's wasn't always alone. Sometimes there was a little boy with him. This boy aged, but not normally. He would go several years looking the same, then he would have a sudden and drastic growth spurt. He had blue eyes dark, blond hair, a stubborn cowlick...he bore quite a resemblance to you in fact." Benjamin stopped America right before the building by putting a staying hand on his arm, "So tell me, who are you _really_? I think I know, but I'd like to hear it from you."

The young nation was silent for a minute. the gears in his head turning, _'Oh shit, he knows! I've been found out. I wasn't careful enough. Should I lie? Do I call him crazy? What do I do?...'_ He came to a decision. He turned to face Benjamin, "America." He said quietly.

You could hear a pin drop at the sudden silence between the two.

Finally, Ben Franklin smiled, "I thought so. No wonder you go to all these boring meetings. You weren't lying when you said that they were important to you."

America studied his shoes, almost afraid to find out what would happen next, "So, what now?" he asked tentatively.

Mr. Franklin started towards the doors of the green building, "Now, we go in to that meeting. And carry on as usual. We can tell my colleagues when they are ready I think.

* * *

**First chapter done! I did this for lack of stories including the founding fathers. It's like no one cares!**

**If your reading this, there's about a 97% chance that you've read the story so far. Drop a review please?**

**Later Dudes. ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

In a dingy tavern, somewhere in Pennsylvania, people were taking refuge from the howling snowstorm outside. A fire blazed cheerfully at one end of the room, giving the place an orangish glow that was aided by gas lamps placed strategically around the room. People clustered together at tables, chatting in a subdued manner. Two men, one rather short and portly, and the other fair haired and lanky, sat at a quiet corner table, making history.

The taller one, Thomas Jefferson sighed, "Yes, I agree with you. But I prefer writing over speaking."

The man across the table, John Adams, frowned, "Well, you have to speak _up_ occasionally. What do you do when you go to the market? Do you give the man a written correspondence of what you'd like to say?"

Thomas kept his face neutral as he sipped his tea, "Now that would be going a bit far wouldn't it?"

"You know what I mean." John replied. He followed his friend's example and sipped his tea before speaking again. "I wish that these delegates would actually _do_ something rather than extending a useless olive branch to the mad king. He hasn't listened before, how will this be any different?"

Jefferson elected to stay silent. Adams would start a passionate rant at the drop of a hat, and Thomas could sense one coming. The talkative one continued, "Parliament isn't going to listen either. They're not following their own Bill of Rights! They believe Americans to be below those born in the homeland. Do they not realize that we are English citizens too?"

Thomas adjusted himself in his seat, "Perhaps you could discuss this at the next congressional meeting? It would probably do more good there."

John scowled into his teacup, "Those blasted-"

He was interrupted by the door to the front of the tavern swinging open, letting in cold air and flurries of snow. A young man entered, bundled with a wool cap and a thick, well serviced brown coat. The whole room fell completely silent for a moment. This mystery person had an unusual air about him, an aura of something strange yet familiar at the same time. He took off the cap, to reveal messy blond hair. He stomped his boots and shed his coat, to reveal a simple, practical riding outfit. This person couldn't be more than fifteen.

John Adams waved at the boy, "Over here, Alfred!"

Alfred turned startled blue eyes on him. He hesitated for a moment, then weaved his way past the tables to get to them. He pulled up a chair, "I didn't know you two were here. Aren't you two supposed to be at home or something?"

Thomas made a noncommittal sound and sipped his tea again. John turned toward Alfred, "I would love to be at home right now. But this storm has made it impossible to travel. What about you? Do you live nearby? Isn't your mother worried about you?"

Alfred looked down, "Erm..." He seemed to be indecisive

Jefferson watched the boy, "It isn't that hard of a question."

Alfred looked up again, "No...kind of...yes. I live nearby. Eng...I mean, Arthur and I haven't been on the best of terms for a while. He's in London right now anyway, so I'm on my own..." He trailed off.

John eyed the boy, wondering at his strange behavior, "Alright then..." He decided to drop the subject for now. "Do you intend to sit in for the next meeting? You seem to find them fascinating, unlike most boys of your age."

The blond nodded, eyes bright, "Oh, yes! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Thomas quirked a small smile, "And you were the official deciding vote for the great 'Who will Open the Window' debate. We wouldn't have ever gotten past the issue if you didn't take it upon yourself to do it. You are indispensable to the political process."

All three men laughed. Alfred took up a self-righteous posture, "Why of course! With all my prowess-"

"Your what?" John asked incredulously.

"My cat like reflexes-"

"Your ego..." Jefferson added.

"Along with my cunning..."

Adams did a spit take.

"...and my rapier wit, I am as close to godlike as anyone will ever be."

Thomas looked at the boy, "Now, now Alfred. If you carry on like that, someone might think you French!"

John thought for a minute, "...or Prussian."

Alfred laughed again, "Nope! I said _godlike_, not _awesome_."

"You have a point. But that albino fellow certainly had ego to spare." Jefferson responded.

Alfred rose from his chair, "I'm gonna go get something to eat. Do either of you want something?"

No, I'm fine."

"Same here."

"Alright!" Alfred said brightly. He left and started chatting it up with a waitress at the bar. It looked like he was flirting.

John regarded the boy, "Oh, to be young again...isn't he a bit young to be courting someone?"

Thomas watched as Alfred said something and the girl blushed, "I'm not so sure. He carries himself like one who has seen much, don't you think?"

"What are you getting at?" John asked.

"I think that there's more to Alfred than meets the eye. Tell me you haven't felt that way." Thomas responded quietly.

The older delegate sighed and looked into his now empty mug, "I'd be lying to say it hasn't crossed my mind. But it's really none of our business. He's a good and honest boy."

Jefferson leaned forward, "Washington agrees with me. When I asked his opinion, he told me a story that seemed absolutely impossible! He swears that it's true and I for one trust his word."

John eyed his friend, "What story? And what does it have to do with Alfred?"

The light haired delegate leaned back again, "Not now. He's coming back. We'll discuss this later."

The larger one raised an eyebrow and said nothing. What's so strange about a fifteen year-old boy?

* * *

**Another chapter done, and I really like how this one's turning out. By the way, I switched chapters one and two so that it made more sense. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review! Don't be shy, I don't bite!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	4. Chapter 4

"I move to end this meeting immediately. It is getting late, and I wish to go home."

Alfred, who was daydreaming by a window, snapped to attention at the prospect.

John Adams glared indignantly at the delegate who said that, "It's not even dark and I'm not _finished_ yet! We will convene only when this matter is resolved." He thumped the table for emphasis.

"That is not your call to make, Mister Adams. Lord knows you'll _never_ be finished." John Hanson, the acting president, said with a yawn. He continued, "All in favor of addressing this issue at the next meeting?"

Everyone in the room began to gather their things with a unanimous, "Aye." Much to Adams's dismay. He huffed and also began to gather his things.

His friend, Thomas Jefferson, shot him an apologetic smile, "Your opinion _will_ be heard. We _will_ get something done."

Adams scoffed, "Why of course! But only If I can beat it into their heads with my walking stick!" He slammed a portfolio onto a table with a resounding _BANG_. Silence followed the sound as people began leaving.

"Oh, bugger." John Hanson muttered a moment later.

Alfred was almost at the door when he heard this. He turned back around, "What's wrong?"

The delegate was on his knees now, straining to reach under a large, heavy wooden bureau, "It seems that-almost-..._damn_. It seems that I've lost a rather important correspondence under this bureau. Could someone help me get it?"

George Washington came over first. The tall man strained to assist in moving the stubborn piece of furniture. The thing must have weighed a ton, for it didn't budge. Another lingering delegate came over to assist, and Benjamin Franklin watched the struggle with interest. The old man turned to Alfred, "Perhaps you should help them Am-I mean-Alfred?" His eyes sparkled with mischief.

Alfred didn't miss the dropped hint. Franklin knew of his unusual strength. He also knew _why_ Alfred had such strength. It wouldn't hurt to help, right? Alfred came up to the desk, "Could I try?"

WAshington looked at Alfred skeptically, "If you must, but...I doubt that you'll do much better."

Alfred gave a knowing smile, "Stand back please!" He grabbed the bottom of the bureau and, with minimal effort on his part, lifted it clear off the ground. He even went so far as to balance it in his left hand and scratch his nose with his right.

Everyone in the room stared. Three grown men couldn't even make it budge, but this fifteen year old boy was holding it with one hand above his head. Said fifteen year old boy looked at John Hanson, "Aren't you going to pick that up? I don't want to be doing this all day!"

The delegate picked up the paper hurriedly. He stashed it with his other papers and left, not willing to believe what just happened. Alfred shrugged and put the bureau back in it's spot. he looked at all the faces in the room, varying from dumbfounded to confused. Benjamin Franklin struggled to his feet and laughed to break the tension hanging in the air, "I think you scared the poor man Alfred! I told you to _help_ them, not to show off!"

Alfred rubbed the back of his head bashfully, "Sorry sir, I just couldn't pass up such an opportunity."

"Why are you two acting like this is bloody _normal_?!" John Adams demanded as he tried to revive Thomas Jefferson, who had fainted.

"I think we would _all_ like an explanation." George Washington added quietly, in awe of what he had just seen.

"The meeting has convened." Ben Franklin said patiently, "You will all get your answers then." He hobbled out.

"I feel bad for all the people who _missed_ that!" A random delegate proclaimed.

* * *

**Another chapter...been completed, it has. But wait...I sense a disturbance in the force...another chapter, approaching it is. **

**Thanks for reading so far, stay tuned for more! You will review, da?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	5. Chapter 5

The next meeting had an air of apprehension. Nobody wished to be the first to broach the subject of yesterday's events. Delegates often stole glances at Alfred, who seemed to be too deep in thought to notice. He sat towards the end of the room with his chair balancing on the it's back legs, and stared at nothing in particular, his blank face betraying nothing. But those who knew him intimately, could see that he was scared, and nervous.

A rather rotund speaking delegate from New York continued his rant, "Antagonizing England further will lead straight into war! We haven't a chance against the British Empire!" He sat down huffily and straightened his powdered wig.

An younger delegate, this one from Connecticut, also stood, "It's not like we could end in more dire straits than we already are by going to war. This is our only chance! You all know that if we meekly surrender now, conditions will but worsen!"

"Sir, you must remember that this is an ordered assembly! I will not stand for such blatant disregard of this council. You must request to have the floor, or you will not be recognized." John Hanson snapped at the errant delegate.

The delegate sat down angrily muttering to himself, "Adams gets away with it..."

Those who heard him were either stifling laughs, or acting indignant for John Adams's sake. The delegate in question however, wasn't paying attention. He twirled his quill absently, occasionally glancing back at Alfred.

George Washington knew exactly what troubled him, and decided to bring the matter into light. He spoke so that only those nearby could hear, "Mr. Adams, is there something that bothers you?"

John Adams glanced up to see most people in the room watching him now. For once he was at a loss for words, "Well-I...um..."

Thomas Jefferson leaned over to the flustered delegate, "Something concerning a particular blond boy behind us?"

Adams nodded.

Benjamin Franklin smiled to himself. He had been looking forward to this for a while now. He spoke up, "Well then. I believe we've stalled the issue enough now. Agreed?"

John Hanson nodded gravely. He called out to the back of the room, "Alfred!"

The young boy didn't hear. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Alfred?"

Before John Hanson could call a third time, Benjamin stopped him with a silencing motion. Hanson looked at Benjamin, who gave a smile and a wink. With an unmistakable mischievous twinkle in his eye the elder delegate twisted himself in his seat and yelled louder than anyone has heard him yet.

"AMERICA!"

Alfred jumped in his chair, wide eyed surprise evident on his face as he snapped out of his stupor. The front legs of his chair slammed against the wood floor and threw him out of it. He hit the ground and scrambled up just as quick, "Ouch! What?!" He looked around the room, confused at the strange looks he was getting. He wondered if it was some fault of his, "You wanted my attention right? What d'ya need?"

Thomas Jefferson put a hand to his mouth, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, "It _can't_ be..."

"How is that even...what?" John Hanson practically whispered as his world turned upside down.

Alfred realized what had happened and slapped himself in the forehead, "Shit...you weren't supposed to know that...can I get in trouble for this?" He said this last part more to himself.

Washington made a triumphant sound, "_That's_ how you survived! I _knew_ something was different about you!" He turned to a grinning Benjamin Franklin, "How did you know?"

The older delegate smiled even wider, "I figured it out early on. He even admitted it when I asked him."

Adams raised his hands, "Wait a moment. Mr. Washington, you said that he survived? What did he survive?" He turned back to Alfred who was now trying to look inconspicuous, "Explain?" His voice did not allow for compromise.

Alfred rubbed the back of his head, "Well...I was kinda shot by a British soldier and...I lived because well...I can't die so..."

The following silence was deafening.

The New York delegate from earlier scoffed, "Wait a moment. You're telling us that you're _immortal?_" He stood up, "Well sir, I for one require _proof _of this outlandish thing you all seem so ready to believe immediately!"

People around the room started to shout either in disbelief or indignation on Alfred's behalf. The din got to an unbearable level, to the point of one of the maids peeking in the room to see what was going on. Alfred smiled and shrugged at her apologetically. The girl nodded and closed the door again quietly. Alfred cupped his hands to magnify his voice, "HEY!"

The room fell silent. Something about his voice at that moment had a strange compelling effect. Some unnamed quality that made everyone _want_ to listen. Alfred spoke again, but this time at normal volume, "Sorry guys. But you're starting to make the people outside wonder, and I'd rather keep this little known fact private." He walked up to the front of the room, all eyes on him, "Alright. I feel you aren't going to believe me if I don't make this irrefutable and dramatic. So please forgive my actions if you take offense." He flashed a daring smile towards the skeptics of the congregation, "Remember, you're the one who wanted to know." He picked up a letter opener from the table, regarded it for a moment, and plunged it into his own shoulder. This elected surprised gasps from everyone.

Thomas Jefferson looked sick, "Are you mad?!" He stared at Alfred in horror.

Alfred wasn't even phased by the wound in his shoulder, or the blood running down his arm, "Oh, no worries!" He nonchalantly pulled the knife out of his shoulder, "Just watch."

Delegates watched with bated breath-except for one from Carolina who was hyperventilating. Alfred had placed the bloodied knife back on the desk-with his injured arm no less-and smiled as the bleeding gash closed itself.

Silence enveloped the room again. Ben Franklin gave a small laugh, "Now America, what did I tell you about showing off? I can think of a million other ways you could have approached that!"

"You act like this is _completely_ normal. You must be utterly insane!" Thomas Jefferson fairly yelled. He calmed down a bit, "But I suppose what's done is done. And I'm probably insane for going with this." He said this with resignation. A smile played on his lips, "Now that I think of it, I believe that Mister Thomas Bee just soiled himself!"

This elicited nervous laughter from a few people. Many were not sure _what_ to think anymore. John Adams stood, "This just proves that we should do what we can for these thirteen colonies." His voice was sure and unwavering, "Here we have the very embodiment of the New World, who has watched in despair as Britain takes his rights through a government body thousands of miles away! Yet at the same time, " His voice softened, "We have Alfred. A boy who has watched as the fate of his homeland is juggled in the hands of a group of delegates who can't decide on who will open the window. Well I say no more!" He made a sweeping gesture and asked, "Now who will stand with me-as I stand with America here? Who will join us?"

There was quiet muttering as delegates were clearly moved by Adams's speech. George Washington stood, "I believe I can speak for most of the men here, when I say that we will do all that we can." He turned to Alfred, "We won't let you down."

America had tears in his eyes, "I can't tell you how much that means to me everyone." He wiped his eyes and smiled, "I have complete faith in you all."

* * *

**Done! Well, probably done! I think this is a good place to end it, but I'm not sure...what do you think?**

**Thanks for the support I've gotten for this! It brings a smile to my face every time. Tell me what you think through a review?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	6. Chapter 6

John Adams ran into Alfred again back in Massachusetts at the town near his family's farm. The town bustled with daily activity. Dogs barked and horses bayed at each other. Occasional shouts between workmen and snatches of conversation could be heard all around. A small, yellowing poster was nailed to a post near the local shop that read, 'DON'T TREAD ON ME.' It was between congressional meetings, so Adams was taking the time to spend it with his family in his hometown. But what was Alfred doing there?

The young nation's profile was stiff and his expression was carefully blank, but Adams knew the boy well enough to know he was furious. He was storming away from the governor's building, ignoring an official looking redcoat with large eyebrows over bottle green eyes and a mop of blond hair who was yelling at him.

"I'm not finished with you yet boy! Get back here!" the Brit yelled.

"Well I'm done with you!" Alfred shot over his shoulder.

The green eyed man glared, "Why can't you be more like your brother? He's _reasonable_!"

At this Alfred turned around to give the man a look that could curdle milk, "I'm _not_ my brother! Stop comparing me to him!"

The British man harrumphed and stomped back into the building, slamming the door shut behind him.

The delegate watched this exchange, gears turning in his head. Alfred's brother...that would be England right? No-Alfred's brother would be Canada, most likely. England would be more of a father figure so...that redcoat must have been England. John shook his head, reeling from the implications of such an exchange. This family spat symbolized the tension rising between England and the America. Soon it will be an all out war.

John Adams huffed to catch up to Alfred's brisk pace, "Alfred! Wait a moment!"

The blond boy didn't seem to hear him. He glared at the ground, muttering to himself angrily. He kicked at the occasional pebble, which would be unremarkable, except that these rocks were being sent off at the speed of a musket ball due to the nation's immense strength. John finally caught up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, "Stop kicking rocks like that or someone will get hurt!"

Alfred shot a look over his shoulder as if expecting someone else. But his expression gave way to one of simultaneous shock and relief. The set of his shoulders relaxed, "Oh. Hello, John!" he stopped and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly-a gesture that Adams has seen often-and spoke, "You didn't see that thing with Arthur did you?"

The delegate scoffed, "I saw, and I heard. Just like the rest of town. You could hear that yelling a mile away! But unlike the other fair citizens of this town, I understand. that was England wasn't it?"

America scowled again. John could now feel the waves of discontent and strife coming off of the boy. People nearby grew restless and animalsstarted to get skittish. The blue eyed boy saw this and fought to calm himself down again. "Yes." He fairly growled.

John regarded Alfred for a moment, and struck upon a brilliant idea, "I'm heading home, and my wife and kids would love to meet you. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Alfred's face lit up at the proposition, "Really?"

Adams nodded, "Why of course! My wife always tends to make to much roast duck. I'll need help finishing it, we can't partake such an endeavor alone!"

The nation smiled widely, "Why, I would be honored to help you in the tackling of the roast duck. I can never turn away from one in need."

* * *

Dinner was wonderful. Alfred turned out to be great with kids. He even got little John Quincy to join in a game of charades. Laughter abounded throughout the house. Eventually, Alfred was asleep in John's favorite chair, with the delegate's youngest snuggled up against his chest under a blanket. His wife, Abigail, smiled at John and leaned against him as they watched the peaceful little picture. It was a wonderful night.

* * *

**I've decided to add another chapter. Just because I'm _that_ awesome. I've been thinking though. I want to do another Hetalia crossover, but I'm stuck between two options. I want to either do a HetaliaXAvatar the Last Airbender crossover, or I want to jump on the HetaliaXHarry Potter bandwagon. Or I could do something I haven't seen and do a Deadly PremonitionXHetalia crossover if enough people are familiar with Deadly Premonition. What do you think? Tell me in a review or PM me! I have ideas for all of these.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


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